On My Honor
by AdmHawthorne
Summary: Maura has some emotional baggage, but thanks to Jane, it's finally safe to unpack. Cowritten with Googlemouth. Repost. Originally posted on 3/06/2011
1. Chapter 1

**Googlemouth has decided to completely retire. As such, she's taking down her FFN account soon, and she's **  
**allowed me the chance to repost what we worked on together.**

**This was originally posted on 3/06/2011**

**Characters aren't ours. They belong to Tess Gerritsen, Janet Tamaro, Turner Broadcasting, Warner Brothers, and **  
**other assorted important people. I gain nothing from writing these stories but the fun of doing it. Please **  
**don't sue me.**

**This story was co-written with Googlemouth. A note from her:**

**Special thanks to Joss Whedon for a particular line in Chapter 10. He has no idea that he's one of my co-authors too, but let's not bother him about it. He's busy.**

**Special thanks to the GSA (disclaimer follows Chapter 11) for being the first to make me feel the sting of institutionalized discrimination. It opened my eyes to a lot of other forms of bigotry, too. It was a painful but valuable learning experience. **

* * *

Maura Isles didn't often have to say no. She was luxury, she was wealth, and the vast majority of humanity could smell the privilege on her and interpreted it as superiority. The vast majority of humanity did not enjoy rejection, so they simply avoided asking her yes-or-no questions, because 'no' was at least fifty percent of the expected outcome, and those odds were not favorable.

These were no ordinary people. They stood in order of height, shoulder to shoulder, three in back and two in front. In fact, if Maura was any judge, and she was, they also stood in order of age, no more than one to two years between each one. Uniformed to represent separate branches of the same organization, they presented a united front, their service badges and medals a colorful fruit salad on the sashes across each chest. Each of these young females carried a bag in one hand. Behind them stood a much taller woman, waiting for them to complete the business at hand with all due expediency. They had already approached Detectives Vince Korsak and Barry Frost, as well as several others in the Boston Police Department homicide division, with success. Only two remained: one empty desk, and one woman whose attire marked her as different, not belonging. Before she had been introduced to her at all, they had already known that this woman did not belong to that desk, and they had saved her for last, perhaps hoping that they would not have to speak to her at all. But the desk's owner had not appeared, and so there they stood, making their extortionate demands, barely disguised as polite supplication.

There was a sameness about the five of them that went beyond their uniforms. They actually looked related, and moreover, related to the taller civilian who stood behind them, watching over them with a mixture of pride and sternness. Actually, considering all things, they probably were related. Each one had a sprinkling of freckles on their pale skin. Three of the five wore glasses, and one more squinted as if she wasn't far from that path. Their backs were ramrod straight, as if the same authority figure(s?) had insisted on it from the moment they could walk. Though their hair wasn't all the same color, it was within a fairly narrow range of medium to light brown, slightly thin, bone straight, and the uniformed females all wore theirs in the same style - not that that meant much, because it could have been just part of the uniform. They all had the same watery blue eyes, staring with serious determination, not taking Dr. Isles's polite, but cold, 'no' for a final answer.

And Dr. Isles, whom they persisted in calling Miss Isles, was not amused.

"No, I don't believe I'll have any." Maura's lips were tightened and thin as she looked down at the three Girl Scouts and two Brownie Scouts, brow furrowed forbiddingly at this, her third refusal. "If I require sweets, I prefer Scharffen Berger chocolates, or one of a dozen fine confectioners throughout New England. Additionally, I cannot support an organization that still allows its chapters to hold meetings in restricted clubs and to exclude members based on life choices. The organization itself may not support discrimination, but some of its chapters do, and the organization has not censured those chapters sufficiently to end such practices definitively." Notably, she was speaking to the children who had asked for her patronage, and not to their mother. "Therefore, as I said before, I am not interested in any cookies. Thank you. Good afternoon." Steadfastly she ignored the disapproving glances from the detectives and Cavanaugh, whose own desk was littered with four different colors of cookie boxes.

The five uniformed girls continued to stare at Maura. Maura continued to stare back. Strangely, she did not seem to be in any danger of succumbing to the pressure from below, nor from her coworkers, who sat staring in disbelief. /How could she refuse to support an American institution?/ their open mouths and blank eyes seemed to ask, their brains apparently refusing to engage and process beyond that. Before a single word could be said, Maura Isles had put down the files she had come upstairs to deliver, picked up a file that someone had left for her, and was out the door.

Jane strolled into the morgue a few hours later munching on a cookie. "Hey, Maura," she stopped at her friend's desk. "I brought you a cookie. I got them down at that bakery you like so much. You want it now, or you want me to put it in the dead people's fridge?" She smirked as she held a small box out to the honey-blonde woman standing at the autopsy table.

Maura went through some very tiny shifts in attitude, very rapidly. There was a smile as she heard Jane's approach and greeting, followed by the smile's collapse into disturbed frown upon mention of cookies, and finally a look of actual relief upon her realization that the cookie had come from her favorite bakery, and not from what she referred to in her mind, without affection, as the Hitler Youth. She turned around, gloves bloodied with her work. "On my desk?" she requested brightly, as if there had been no stiffening of her spine and shoulders, no expression of cold resentment in the middle of all that. "I'd like it to still be warm by the time I can get out of Ivana Noparstak," she gestured with her scalpel to her latest patient. "What kind did you get me?"

"Well, I had problems deciding," Jane replied sitting the box down on the desk and taking a seat in Maura's chair. "At first, I thought Thin Mints, but then I remembered you don't like mint and chocolate together. Then, I thought Lemon Chalet Crèmes, but I remembered how you're not a fan of 'faux citrus'. Then, I thought Trefoils, but then I remembered that you don't like Girl Scouts. So I hiked it down the street to the bakery. I got you a white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookie." The brunette raised an eyebrow, smirk still firmly in place. "You want to tell me what that's all about?"

The recitation of Girl Scout cookie flavors turned Maura away from Jane, hands delving back into her work within the excoriated woman's abdominal cavity. "Isn't it obvious? Faux citrus always smells like household cleaning solvents. The very idea of trying to chemically reproduce any flavor that can be found so easily in natural, healthy, delicious sources is repugnant to me. But," she added to cap off the deflection, "I do love white chocolate chips and macadamia nuts. The macadamia nut is the only plant food native to Australia that is produced and exported in any significant quantity. The only product that really comes close is the eucalyptus, but that's used medicinally rather than as a food item." She broke off to hit the recorder with her elbow, describe something she'd found in the dead woman's pancreas in excessively long words, then click it off again. Mentally, the medical examiner congratulated herself on a successful distraction. _Good, no more questions,_ she thought.

Erroneously, as it turned out.


	2. Chapter 2

"Yeah, not working, talking Google." The detective wiped her hands on her pants and leaned back in the chair. "As fascinating as Australia's export business is, that doesn't answer my question. What is up with you and Girl Scouts? I know you don't always follow the crowd, Maur, but Korsak said you were kind of mean to those girls. That doesn't really sound like you." Jane put her hands behind her back as she leaned further in the chair. "You going to tell me or what? You know, I'm a detective. I'll eventually find out."

Drat. Maura sighed, recorded a little more information in the autopsy recording device, and sighed again. "Unlikely, as I'm sure they don't keep records for that long. Oh, all right. What did Vince tell you so far?" Perhaps she could get away with less than the full story, if Vince hadn't heard much, or reported much to Jane.

Jane moved her arms, crossing them over her torso. "Something about you saying no three times, you saying something about getting better sweets elsewhere, and you citing something about the organization discriminating based on 'life choices', which, I'm going to guess, means sexual orientation." At the medical examiner's look of annoyance, the brunette finished off with, "In case you forgot, Korsak is also a detective. We have a tendency to pick up things even when it looks like we're not paying attention. It's what we do. So, out with it."

Maura's lips tightened like a disapproving schoolmarm, looking as though she'd just swallowed something nasty. "I would prefer not to discuss this at all," she said with finality, and for a moment that looked as though that would be the end of it, at least until Jane worked a lot harder to get Maura to give it up to her. Then she went on anyway. "However, because I know that you'll just keep asking and asking until I tell you what you want to know, can I at least count on your discretion? I don't want to hear this story retold in the office or at gnocchi nights. I would also appreciate it if you didn't laugh at me, but that may be a bit much to ask."

The smirk disappeared from the detective's face and was quickly replaced with a serious look that anyone who knew the brunette would know meant she was being completely sincere. "Maura, you know I would never repeat you didn't want me to tell. Of course I'll keep your secret. But, if it really makes you that uncomfortable, I can let it go." In a fluid motion, Jane stood and pulled a small piece of paper from her hip pocket. "I got a coupon for that bakery. It's a buy one get one thing. You want to go down after work and pick up a dessert for dinner tonight, or do you want to call off dinner?"

For nearly a full minute, Maura said nothing at all. When she did speak, it was into the recording device, which she fed with information about the woman whose entrails were spread beneath her like some sick buffet. Just when it looked as though she would never speak on the subject, and the sounds of Jane's impending departure rustled behind her, Maura gave an answer. "Let's make it a really light dessert. I don't… particularly want to talk about this, but I'd rather have you know the truth than have your mind go wild with imaginings, either. I should be finished right on time today, so come down whenever you like."

By the time Maura began to speak again, Jane was nearly to the door. She stopped and turned to look at the medical examiner who was still elbow deep in Ivana Noparstak. "Yeah, I can do that. You still want me to cook that chicken? I've got enough stuff at the house to make that pasta dish you like, if you'd rather have that?" She paused for a moment, trying to gauge the negativity rolling off of her normally very positive friend. "You really don't have to tell me anything, Maura. I do know how to drop something. We can just have a nice dinner."

"The chicken is fine," Maura replied, hands working almost, but not quite, on automatic. "And… I'll see. I don't know, maybe it's time I got past this. It's been quite some time. All the same," she went on as she sliced her way through all of Mrs. Noparstak's physical secrets, discovering a drinking habit in the liver, unusual sports involvement in an elbow and shoulder, and cause of death in the lungs and throat, "I _do_ feel I have a justifiable grievance that goes beyond the personal. Did you know that while the Girl Scouts of America, and worldwide, does not actually have a policy of discrimination, they don't censure the chapters that do support institutionalized racism, homophobia, and religious discrimination? There are still, to this day, chapters that hold their meetings in restricted clubs. No Jews, no blacks. There are chapters that won't permit a gay man or woman to lead a troop, despite the non-discriminatory policies of corporate headquarters in regard to the membership of the girls. There are even some chapters that will not allow a girl to participate if her parents are gay." Again she sighed, hands stilling, shoulders slumping. "And none of that, reprehensible as I find it, is my reason for detesting them."

"Sounds a lot like the Boy Scouts, actually." Jane made a face, eyes clouding over for a moment with some remembrance from the past. "I'll come down and get you, okay? We'll go get dessert and then meet at my place for chicken. If you want to talk, okay. If you don't, that's okay, too. See you in a few hours?" She chewed on her bottom lip, her posture indicating uncertainty.

Maura nodded assent, mumbling her thanks into the body of Ivana Noparstak. She wasn't looking forward to the conversation they would have to have, but maybe it _was_ time.

By the end of the day, Dr. Isles had sewn up her patient, assembled her notes, and filled out her official report as well as adding an entire page of personal observations to her personal file concerning the subject. Cause of death: accidental. It was from a black widow spider bite, not a murder at all, though it had certainly looked like one at the start. Black widow spider bites led to a death that looked like drowning, except that there was no water in the lungs, and some would mistake it for poison at first glance. It was one weight off her mind today, at least, that she could clear Mrs. Noparstak's family of suspicion. Earlier, Korsak had mentioned that the family went on a long road trip, and she had used a restroom that was infested with spiders. Nothing sinister there, just icky.


	3. Chapter 3

Maura sewed up the body neatly, tidily, and then tagged it for delivery to the family's funeral home. There it would be dressed for burial in a way that would conceal all the violations she had performed on their deceased wife, mother, aunt, grandmother, sister. It was the least she could do in apology for the necessary intrusion into their lives, into the woman's body. _Do a good deed every day,_ she thought with something approaching sarcasm. _It's the Brownie way. _And there she was again, eight years old, reciting oaths and pledges, learning to raise her hand for quiet, to put three fingers on the floor or table for attention, to sing songs about cooperation and helpfulness in her strong but toneless voice. _. Always Ready. Be Prepared. Lend a hand._ _On my honor, I will try to do my duty to society and country, and to obey the Girl Scout Law._ Aloud, she added in a low mutter, "Even though I still think you're a snitch and a dumb-dumb."

"Language, Maura." Jane chuckled as she leaned against the wall by the door. "You ready?"

Whirling away from her filing cabinet, Maura flushed a deep red as she found herself observed and overheard. "Jane! Oh, goodness." One hand fluttered to her heartbeat as if to still it beneath the sage green cashmere sweater that she'd put back on after removing her autopsy scrubs. "Ah… yes. I'm ready, I think. Um. Bakery, then my place? You can bring Jo Friday." It wasn't as close, but there was a spare room, and Jo was easier to bring places than Bass. For one thing, she was lighter than the eighty-odd pound tortoise. For another, she could usually be counted on to hop herself into the car, whereas Bass needed to be picked up and carried. "I've got the food she likes."

"Yeah, I can cook at your place. I guess this means I'm spending the night?" She pushed off the wall to pick up the bag Maura always carried in along with her purse. In a conspiratorial voice, she added, "This would be where I would normally insert something about you wanting to sleep with me, but," her tone changed to add flecks of humor, "I'm going to cut you some slack today. Let's go, I'm really gunning for one of those little mini-cake things from that bakery. You know, the ones that are filled with chocolate whipped cream kind of stuff?"

"Ganache," Maura responded immediately to the final part of what Jane said, and then one of her patented smiles, "I'd like that." There was just enough of a pause – maybe 0.3 seconds at most – to cast a shade of doubt as to exactly what she meant. Spending the night? Sleeping with Jane? Cutting some slack? Mini-cakes? Sometimes it was easy to tell what she thought. Sometimes it was just more comfortable for everyone not to try. She grabbed her purse, and off they went.

By the time they'd bought dessert, walked Jo Friday and taken her to Maura's, and prepared and eaten dinner, Maura's attitude had improved significantly. Jane's description – and imitation – of Rondo's desperate attempts to provide "Vanilla" with some useful information in order to get approval and cash had caused her to relax a bit, then to smile, and finally to laugh outright. The excellent meal had helped quite a lot as well, light and healthy while tasting at least as decadent as those filled mini-cakes that were sitting in their bakery box, just waiting to be tasted. "I find it astonishing that you can do that," Maura commented concerning the nutritional content of their dinner, as she got up to clear the things away and stack dishes in the dishwasher. "It must be a gift from your mother, creating meals that taste like a plate full of dietary sin. But I watched you cook, and I know that it was actually very healthy. You keep surprising me with the things you can do."

"Good." Jane followed Maura's lead and helped clear the table. "The day I stop surprising you is the day I need to retire from life." She handed the dishes from the table over to Maura. "Nothing I do should _ever_ be too predictable. Where's the fun in that? Right, Joe?" With a chuckle, she bent over to scratch the little dog's stomach. "You're not boring either, are you girl? No you're not." Jane made a little growling noise as she scratched and played with the dog. Looking up, from her bent over position, she shot her friend a grin. "See? Joe's glad I'm full of surprises, too."

Maura stood tiptoe to look over the countertop at Jo Friday, legs in the air, giving her tummy over to Jane's attentions. It made her laugh again, and with each laugh of the evening she'd let go one more layer of the tension she'd been carrying since she'd first seen the uniformed girls in the bullpen that morning.

As her mirth calmed and she hung up the washcloth she'd used to wipe down the counter, Maura came back to the table with the box of dessert cakelets and a pair of forks. She'd worked hard to avoid being too formal for Jane, to the point of making herself set out just enough tableware for a single-plate meal, removing it all, and then bringing out only what was needed for the dessert. Since the ill-fated encounter with the Fairfields, Maura had been making a concerted effort to downplay even more the disparities between her upbringing and Jane's, lest Jane think she harbored any affection for those differences in class and status, which she'd once taken for granted so easily. This time, she didn't even bring plates, deciding that she could attempt to eat right out of the box as if these fluffy, filled confections were really just fancy-looking versions of the doughnuts on the snack table at work. Which, she supposed, they were.

The lighter brunette set down the box and forks, but didn't sit down. "Maybe a little break before we try to eat dessert? I promised to tell you… the thing, and I think I can do it now," she suggested, lowering herself to join in the tummy rubs for Jo Friday. "Oh, look at this. Who's my tummy-girl? Who's the tummy-baby? That's right, you are! Good girl, Jo!" Jo Friday wiggled all over, hardly knowing whether to sneeze or go blind, but enjoying all the loving-up she was getting. It made up for some of the nights her owner didn't get home till late, and she'd had to resort to being walked and petted by the neighbor girl.

"Really? Baby talk? Joe's too tough for that!" Jane sat down in the floor, leaning her back against the cabinet so she could continue to play with her dog while she gave the majority of her attention to her friend. "Okay, Maura, if you're sure you want to talk about it, then I'm all ears, and I _promise_ I won't tell a soul unless you tell me it's okay first."


	4. Chapter 4

Maura continued to tickle at Jo Friday's chin, tap her paw pads, and rub the elusive, wiggling head, not to stall, but to collect her thoughts. "I know, Jane. I trust you," she finally said with a smile, looking really open, really herself, for first time all day. "So." She slipped off her heels and set them by the table, then sat with her back against the counter and legs stretched out, Jo frisking between the two women and eating up all the extra contact. "When I was in second grade, a representative of the Girl Scouts came to my school and offered to sign up anyone who wanted to be in the Brownie Scouts and could get parental permission. She did a presentation, but I don't actually remember much of what she said. I remember thinking I really liked her uniform…"

"Her uniform? Well," Jane gave a little shrug. "They are cute, but they don't strike me as very fashionable. _You_ however, strike me as having been a fashion guru from the moment you were born. But, whatever works." Realizing she was rambling, she made an apologetic face. "Sorry, go ahead." With a flick of her wrist, she waved her hand in the air above Joe's head, playing a game of 'can't touch me', as she called it, with the still wiggling dog.

Jo nipped, but never actually on any fingers, well restrained for such a small, excitable animal. Maura watched, sometimes assisting with a hand placed on the tiny, soft underbelly to help her keep calm. "It wasn't so much the fashion as the… I don't know. It looked crisp and smart, like the person wearing it was a part of something, and she was offering me a chance to be a part of it, too. Even at that age, I knew I'd need help being part of any group, and I thought if I had a uniform like everyone else's… not that it helped in school, so I don't know why I thought that. Maybe because with school, everyone had to be there, but with Scouting it was a voluntary thing. People would only join if they wanted to join, and I thought I might find some like minds.

"Plus, even though it wasn't what you'd call really fashionable, it did look really sharp, and I sort of had a fascination with uniforms. You know," Maura emphasized, "_uniforms_. Wearing one automatically confers upon the wearer an aura of… hm. Authority? I suppose that's it. Authority, invincibility, strength. Power."

"I'm a cop. I totally get that." Jane gave her friend a warm smile. "I don't do it very much anymore, but I still get a little thrill every time I wear my uniform. Plus," she lowered her voice as if other people were around who might hear her, "I think I look good in it." She let out a snort. "Do not," she pointed at the woman beside her with the hand she had been using to tease her dog, "tell anyone I said that."

Both Maura's hands flew up, spread, palms forward in a don't-shoot-me pose. "I would never," she vowed, though she did add with another of her too-warm smiles, the kind that made dates ecstatic with the thought that she was a sure thing (and that made pretty much everyone else really uncomfortable), "but I'd love to see you in it someday. If you like, I can make that the price for my silence on the matter." Then she laughed, taking the seriousness away from the gentle blackmail, and returned her right hand to Jo Friday's back as the dog flipped over onto her feet. "Anyway, I got permission and signed up to join my school's Brownie troop. I attended all the meetings, memorized the Girl Scout law, motto, and so on. In several languages, actually. Did you know that in some countries, instead of Be Prepared, the motto translates to Always Ready?"

Jane narrowed her eyes as she gave her friend a hard look. "Maybe, if you're really good, I'll drag my uniform out so you can see it. It might be a little tighter than I remember, though." She laughed.

For three heartbeats, Maura's laughter stilled, then returned as she bent over Jo again to kiss the furry little head, hair falling to cover her face for a moment. The dog was winding down, less wiggly and more laid-back, now that her need for the touch of her humans had been well sated.

"You know, if you keep telling me historical facts about the Girl Scouts, I don't think we're ever going to make it to dessert, and that chocolate whipped cream stuff is calling my name." She winked at the honey blonde before turning serious again, ignoring Joe's pleading look for more attention. "Maura, I can tell this is really making you uncomfortable. You only go Wikipedia mouth when you're trying to avoid really talking about something, are nervous, or you're trying to talk me into something really… Well, anyway, my point is you don't have to keep going if you don't want to."

Quieting, Maura took a deep breath and let it out to give herself time to process. Her laughter subsided, and her dog-tickling turned to idle ear rubbing for a moment. "Maybe we should get to dessert, anyway. It's… I wouldn't call it a horrible memory, but at the time it hurt, and while chocolate and sugar are not healthy ways of coping with childhood trauma, I think I need something to distract me just a little bit." She got to her feet and offered both hands to Jane for a pull-up assist. "I do want to tell you, though. Maybe this time it will be something I can laugh at, the way my nanny promised would eventually happen."

Jane took the offered hands, letting Maura help counter balance so she could stand up. "Your nanny sounds like a wise person." She gave the hands in hers a little squeeze. "I'm going to go wash my hands real quick. I know where Joe's been." The detective made a face. "I do _not_ want to eat anything Joe's been in." She walked over to the kitchen sink. "Chocolate always helps; it makes everything better. What was it you said about chocolate? Something about it being for happy chumps or something?"

"Chocolate Happiness Undergoing More Pleasantness," Maura corrected as she followed Jane to the sink to wash her hands and even her mouth where she'd given the pooch a smooch. She pumped soap on both their hands from the little bottle near the dish soap so they could wash jointly as she elucidated further. "The study concluded that ingesting chocolate makes us happier." Once the requisite thirty seconds of sudsing had taken place, she rinsed, then grabbed a clean towel to dry her own hands, then held it out to dry Jane's. "Of course, I later read a different study from a more authoritative source that explained that chocolate doesn't create happiness, nor even cause the brain to produce happiness chemicals. What chocolate actually stimulates are the chemicals that are released by orgasm. Not many, of course, or we'd be able to supplant sex with chocolate entirely, and the human race would die out of species-wide obesity. Smiling, though," Maura added with a grin and that flirty little nose-wrinkle thing that she did.

Obediently, the brunette held her hands out to let the doctor dry them. "What is it with you and things that make you feel like you're having an orgasm?" Jane shook her head. "I swear, woman, you talk about sex more than any person I know. If I wasn't a hardened homicide detective, you might throw me off guard a lot." She dropped her hands down at her sides and swaggered toward the table where the cakes were waiting. "But, considering my dry streak," she signed heavily as she plopped down in a chair, "My _very long_ dry streak, maybe I should be taking notes." She picked up the forks, holding one out to Maura as she motioned with her head for her friend to come sit next to her.

Maura accepted the fork and sat opposite Jane, opening up the dessert box and sticking in her fork just enough to get some of the fluff off the top of the cake, along with the cherry on top. "I like orgasms," she said with infectious enthusiasm. "They release Immunoglobulin A, which helps the immune system against colds, for one thing. They cause the irises and the tiny muscles around the eyes to contract, which tightens the facial muscles in general, which keeps them from sagging, so you look younger for longer. They tone several muscles in the middle and lower body, flood the bloodstream with a rush of extremely pleasant chemicals, excite the neurons in the brain, and they actually create feelings of closeness and trust as long as there's nothing preventing those feelings from taking root. They're one of the healthiest things that a human being can actively enjoy and seek out." So saying, she popped the bite into her mouth. "Mmm. I wish this topping was as healthy as an orgasm. Try it."

"Orgasms or the cake?" Jane raised an eyebrow as the corner of her mouth tugged toward a classic Rizzoli smirk.


	5. Chapter 5

Maura tilted her head to one side, smiling as she analyzed the smirk. Just before the length of the analysis turned awkward, she speared into the mini-cake to get topping plus cake, but not all the way through to the creamy chocolate ganache center. "We did a lot of fun things in the Brownies. We sold cookies, and I got some badges for knot tying, cookie sales, raising money for a local children's hospital, learning and teaching my fellow Brownies about dental hygiene, and so on.

"I was involved from September until April," she continued, "at which time the troop went on our first camping trip. It wasn't real camping, mind you. There were cabins. Four girls to a room, except mine, which only had three because there were an odd number of us. It was myself, Shelly, and Gwen. Shelly's mother was a Senator and her father a shipping magnate who employed hundreds, and Gwen's mother was a Bostonian Brahmin who'd moved to town for college and stayed to marry her husband, who later became state governor. In that school, in that troop, I was sort of average in socioeconomic status, but they were royalty. They were best friends, too. I was… me. Too smart, too creepy, bad at all the kid things, had the wrong toys, the wrong hair style, the wrong stickers on my notebooks. They didn't want to room with me at all."

Jane gave Maura a sympathetic look. "Kids can be mean." She ran her fork over the top of her minicake to scoop the topping off. "I think they can be meaner than adults a lot of the time." Frowning, she licked the fork clean. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that kind of crap growing up."

Maura ate her bite and speared another as she considered her reply. "In retrospect, it prepared me for becoming Doctor Death and Queen of the Dead. Now I can appreciate that the things that make me different are the reasons I have a job that I love, a life that I enjoy. Back then, though, all I wanted was to stand out less. I still couldn't stop being myself, but I wished that my _self_ wasn't so different from everyone else's. It was much harder then, especially because I had to deal with it alone. I had some people that I think considered me a kind of friend, but I was secondary to them, sort of on the B-list. No one put my name down as a preferred cabin mate, which was how I got stuck with Shelly and Gwen, and they got stuck with me."

She took a couple more bites of her cake, gazing off into space somewhere over Jane's shoulder as she contemplated how to continue. "I don't really remember much about the camping parts of that trip. I'm sure we all learned how to set a fire in the common area, how to light it and tend it safely, probably cooked sausages or marshmallows or something. I remember sneaking off to shower before bed while everyone else was still singing songs, so that I could have the shower to myself and not have anyone looking at me. I was terrified of that, back then."

"That makes sense. A lot of girls are self-conscious about their looks." As an afterthought, Jane added, "You really shouldn't be, though." She took another bite of cake and waited for Maura to continue.

"I'm not anymore," Maura replied as finally her fork broke through the cake and delved into the rich filling which she'd been saving for last. "It wasn't even a factor then, although I suppose it would have been, if I'd thought of it. At the time, I wasn't concerned with them judging me for my looks, but with just being seen. I was very modest as a child. What?" she interrupted herself to laugh a protest. "I was! Anyway, that's not the point! The point was… The point was that it was bedtime, and I'd showered and gone to sleep. I was so tired, Jane. I'd been dealing with social ostracism all day from girls who'd joined a club that was all about helping, belonging, being friendly, being kind. It was exhausting, having to watch them trying so hard to be good, but failing to include me, making fun once my back was turned, or right to my face while the den mother's back was turned. I just wanted to be unconscious.

"But when Shelly and Gwen got out of their showers, they were talking and giggling as if I wasn't even there." A little resentment crept into Maura's voice as she gave air to the memory. "Maybe they'd genuinely forgotten me; I took the top bunk and left the bottom one empty, so they probably couldn't see me. But they were both in the bottom bunk on the other side, so when I leaned over to ask them to be quiet, I had a rather full, moonlit view thanks to the window."

Jane's eyes narrowed. "View of what?" She held her fork in the air, waiting.

Maura pressed her lips together for a moment. If she were watching herself, she'd have known what that meant: she was holding something back, editing herself. Jane probably knew it too, detective that she was, and used to reading other people. Maura's ears and neck turned a bit pink as she examined the memory minutely, and at last said, "Childish curiosity made manifest. I don't think they really knew what they were doing. It had the look of investigation and exploration, rather than as if either of them had a goal beyond learning." She paused. "At first."

As she contemplated how to explain the experience of her eight-year-old self, Maura absently licked the ganache off her fork; but as if realizing too late how it may have looked, she set the fork down entirely and set her hands in her lap, where they clasped one another for comfort. "I don't know how I recognized something that I hadn't experienced, myself, but I did. I remember thinking to myself, in that language almost exactly, that I was actually witnessing the precise moment when innocent play became goal-oriented sexuality. And because I'd read a lot – I mean, a _lot_ – I identified it as such, and whatever dam was broken in them that night, emotionally speaking, also broke in me. I tried so hard to be quiet, Jane, to shut my eyes and go back to sleep, but… I just…" And then she didn't need to explain what she'd done then, because she was doing it now, eyes spilling forth tears of loneliness. She sobbed silently, then sniffled, and in too short a time to have possibly been natural, apologized by saying, "I was just so jealous."

Jane set her fork down and walked around the table. Squatting down to be eyelevel with Maura, she grabbed both of the smaller woman's hands in her own. "Hey, it's okay." Her thumbs began to rub gentle circles over the backs of Maura's hands. "That was a long time ago. You're not alone anymore." She gave her friend a reassuring smile.

Maura's hands unclenched enough to turn over and grasp Jane's, not tightly enough to hurt, but enough to indicate a gratitude that fell near the extreme end of the spectrum. "But I was then. And that was when it mattered, because I couldn't cry quietly then. They heard me. They jumped, pulled up their sheets, and shrieked. Then they were getting dressed and running out of the cabin."


	6. Chapter 6

"I just sat on my bunk, bawling and shaking. It wasn't until they came back in with the den mother, accusing me of trying to kiss them and watch them in the shower, that I realized that sometimes the truth isn't always the best defense. I couldn't say anything at all, and by the time I could speak, it was too late. It was their word against mine, and there were two of them. One thing led to another…" Maura's eyes were nearly dry now, but wide, as if the whole scene was playing out again right in front of her. "I got kicked out of Brownie Scouts on an immorality charge. And the worst part was that I'd received punishment without the antecedent reward! "

"Oh my God, Maura, that's… yikes." Jane continued to hold her friend's hands. "I'm not going to lie, I kind of feel like I should find out where they are right now and go beat the crap out of them for that." She scrunched her face up in irritation. "What is wrong with people? As is if _you_ would," the detective let out a growl of anger. "You know what?" She stood up, pulling Maura up with her. "Fuck them and the holier-than-thou train they came in on." Pausing for a very brief second, Jane snorted. "On second thought, don't. They might like that." She smiled, her eyes sparkling with humor at her own joke.

Maura's fingers relaxed, though she didn't release Jane's hands. "Yes, they would," she stated with defiance, and started to follow it up, "because since then I've become quite adept at…"

"They're all a bunch of tools anyway, and anyone who can't see what a great person you are is missing out." Jane pulled the honey-blonde into a hug. "They suck. But, at least you don't have to deal with that anymore. I'm sorry you ever had to."

Maura leaned into the hug as if it were cold and Jane had just opened her coat to share body warmth and comfort. "Thank you, Jane. I'm so glad you believe me. Nobody else did, at the time." Off Jane's incredulity she explained, "Because I kept hyperventilating whenever the topic was brought up by Shelly, Gwen, the den mother, their parents, or my parents and nanny. I was so upset that I gave myself the symptoms that I also underwent the only time I tried to lie. So I looked guilty."

Jane wrapped her arms around the smaller woman, trying to give her as much comfort as she needed. "Of course I believe you." She pulled back gently to allow Maura time to adjust to the lack of physical support. "That had to be really hard to you. I can't even _imagine_ what I would have done in your place." She rolled her eyes. "I probably would have freaked out, too." She brushed the tears from Maura's face. "That really sucks, Maura." Again, another comforting smile. "Do you want me to go find them and beat them up for you? Because… I'll totally do it."

Maura permitted herself to be comforted, though she did look a little disappointed when Jane pulled back from her. "What part would have made you freak out?" she asked, not quite idly, as she took a step back, letting her arms fall to her sides in lieu of having anything else to do with them; and it looked awkward for perhaps the first time. Before Jane could answer, she rushed to explain herself. "I'm asking because a lot of the time, I seem to be feeling the same things others are feeling, but not about the same things. Which part would have freaked you out? Seeing your friends that way, or not being included, or being kicked out of the organization, or not being believed, or hearing that you'd shamed your parents, or being ostracized in school for the rest of the year until you transferred to a different one?"

"Yes?" Jane sat back down and absentmindedly picked her fork up again. "I mean, at that age I already knew about Cousin Guy and his 'special friend' Gary, and I liked them. In fact, I still do. Guy and Gary have this kick ass house party once a year that I really should take you to some time." She sighed. "Anyway, my point is, I wouldn't have been too put off by the idea of two girls being together. But, walking in on something that…I don't know…_intimate_ is awkward. It doesn't matter how old you are or what gender the people involved are. Not being believed is worse. Being kicked out of a national institution on a false immorality charge is even worse. Being made a social pariah at school is… what?" She raised an eyebrow at the doctor's questioning look. "You don't think I know big words? I know big words!" She stuck her tongue out and made a face before continuing. "But, yeah, I'd have been freaked out by all of it. But, I have to say, Maura, you just asked me if seeing my 'friends' that way would freak me out. Those girls _were not_ your friends if that's how they treated you after having that happen. They were just bitches. _I_ am your friend, and I promise you that, if you walked in on something that I would think was awkward that I didn't want people to know I did, I would not make you some sort of victim about it all." The brunette gave a little shrug. "Of course, I _know_ you, and I know I can trust you, too. They obviously didn't know the first thing about you."

Maura rounded the table and sat again, though she ignored her mini-cake, or rather, the lump of ganache she'd left for last. She picked up the fork to toy with, occupying her eyes and fingers by roving over its silver sheen and intricate pattering. "I think you must be right," she said quietly, then huffed petulantly. "You know, Jane, you make me feel so unsatisfied."


	7. Chapter 7

"I… wait, what?" The confusion rushed through Jane as she tried to figure out how they had gone from awkward story about the past to her being less than something Maura needed. "Okay, you're going to have to draw me a map on this one, Maura."

Frustration crept into Maura's voice and facial expression, balled her hands into fists in her lap. "Every time I look back on my life, there are people in it that I considered friends. And now that I have you, I'm realizing that I clearly had no idea what friends actually were. I've become so spoiled by this, by having… _this_, that I find myself looking at all my old friendships and being so irritated with them, so unsatisfied with what I had before. Even a little angry that I had no basic understanding of what I was missing, until so recently."

"Oh." Jane put her fork down again. "Couldn't you just be happy we found each other instead of comparing what we have with things from the past? I mean, every relationship is different anyway, right?"

Maura couldn't be content right away. There was still frustration, disappointment to deal with, and she didn't want to let it go so quickly. But eventually she sighed as it drifted away from her. "You're right. I'm just upset because I can't change the past, which is a ridiculous thing to upset me. I _am_ glad we found each other. You know what? I'm also glad that I said what I said to Gwen. She won't change her mind about anything, she's already made her choices, but maybe her daughters will think about their allegiance to the organization. If they choose to stay in it, maybe they'll change it for the better, but at least they'll know what they're involved with."

"Yeah, or they'll think the high class lady in the designer clothes that works at the Boston PD was a snob and move on." Jane smirked. "Either way, what matters is you did what you felt was right, and I won't fault you for that." She finished off the last bite her mini cake.

Maura gaped openly. "You're not exhibiting any signs of surprise at all. You knew? You knew that was Gwen today?" she demanded. "How could you possibly know that?"

"You _just_ told me." Jane's smirked turned into a mischievous smile. "Detective work one-oh-one, Maur. Always give them enough rope to hang themselves." She laughed at her friend's shocked expression.

Maura shook her head, finally smiling, as Jane got the better of her. "Well. You know how I turned out, and you probably heard from Vince and Barry how Gwen turned out – soccer, Girl Scout, minivan, plays bridge with her husband, and I suspect she's a bit too fond of prescriptions. Shall I tell you how Shelly turned out, too?"

"Yeah, I'm curious." Jane leaned forward and ran the forefinger of her left hand quickly through the ganache Maura was slowly eating. "Please tell me she's butching it up somewhere. That'd be just about perfect." Jane began to like the creamy chocolate from her finger as she sat back to listen.

Maura's smile turned into one of her I-know-something almost-smirks as she stood up and walked into the kitchen, plucking from the phone message drawer a cocktail napkin. She brought it back to the table with her, where she mimicked Jane's action with her remaining ganache, then slid the cocktail napkin across the table to Jane. On the side that was not printed was a phone number, written in purple gel pen ink, along with the name: Shel Johnston. Maura's smile widened as she suggested, "Turn it over," before licking the creamy chocolate-caramel delight from her fingertip.

The front of the napkin read, in big, bold letters, MERCH.

"Nice." Jane handed the napkin back to the still smirking honey-blonde. "Figures one of them would join the other team." She took a few moments to lick her fork, making sure to get all of the yummy chocolate goodness from the prongs. "You know, people are funny, aren't they? I mean, one of them goes off to the husband and 2.5, and the other goes off to follow other women. Just goes to show you never know how someone is really going to turn out." Realizing all the chocolate had finally been devoured, the detective frowned as she tossed the fork in the open box where the mini cakes had been. "I mean, look at you. I bet those two would never have guessed that you'd turn out to be a smart, beautiful, successful doctor with an awesome friend like me, right?" She gave Maura one of her trademark 'I am awesome because I'm me' smiles.

"They knew I'd be smart," Maura replied easily, having never doubted this one area of her life. "But you're right, I doubt they saw me as ever having any real friends, let alone any as wonderful as you. To be fair, though, I assumed that they'd both turn out more like Gwen. Shelly surprised me, which was good to see. She seems happier now. Less likely to take the coward's way out again."

With a sigh, the detective stood, taking the box and forks to the sink for cleanup. "Hey, Maur, when did you see her at the Merch, anyway? That doesn't strike me as the kind of place you frequent in you Jimmy Choo's and Givenchy little black dresses. Did you run into her when we went undercover or something?" Jane put the clean forks in their proper place. "Oh God, Maura, was she one of my blind dates? Please tell me she wasn't one of my blind dates." Jane made a face, crossing her eyes and sticking her tongue out in mock disgust.

As Jane stood, Maura prepared to do the same, but her question caught Maura up short, and she lowered herself back to her chair. "She wasn't one of your blind dates," replied the doctor after a moment's pause, "but yes, that's when I ran into her that time." The second the words left her mouth, Maura closed her eyes in a rather classic 'oh, dear' expression. _Maybe Jane won't notice,_ she thought, clinging to a shred of hope.

"That time?" Jane turned to lean against the cabinet. "Maura, what aren't you telling me about your after hours activities when we're not together?"

Head tilted to one side, Maura viewed Jane with speculation for a moment. "Well, I didn't tell you that while you were at court today, I had soup for lunch. I also didn't tell you about the extra tip I gave my hairdresser last Monday, or the fact that I finished the book I'd been trying to read since the double homicide last month. Out of the one hundred fifty-six hours in a week, you and I are apart for approximately one hundred, even assuming we spent our entire work day together. Would you prefer to narrow the focus of your question?" Her tone was light, teasing, but her expression was serious. "I'm willing to discuss anything you want to know."


	8. Chapter 8

"Oh my God, Maura!" The detective made frustrated gestures in the air. "If you're bi, just _tell_ me. You know how much I hate playing this weird game where I have to guess the right question to ask you in order to get a meaningful answer. Jesus, why do you always do that?" Jane stomped to the fridge, threw the door open, grabbed a beer, and, in a surprising move, gently closed the door before twisting the cap off of the bottle. Taking a large swig, she tossed the bottle cap in the trash under the island.

Patiently, Maura waited out the miniature storm, then an extra few beats to make certain it had reached a stopping place, before explaining herself. "Because I can prevaricate, hesitate until you come up with something else you want to say or ask, find a way to say something else, or just pretend I didn't hear you or that I didn't understand your question, but I can't _lie_ to protect you from questions that you ask without thinking through the fact that you don't actually want the answers. I'm sorry that that makes you so upset, but please try to understand. Just because I'm not able to lie doesn't make it any easier to tell the truth, either, sometimes." Her brows rose in challenge as if asking, _well, did I make my point?_

Once she was certain the implied question had been noted and the point was clear, she then answered the other question, challenge slipping away from her and being replaced with her more quiet, humble, and honest self. "Yes, I'm bisexual. Sort of. I suppose. I don't have a really easy answer to that question, but if you'd like to know more, I can try to clarify my position."

Jane took a few moments to give Maura a good, long scowl as she sipped her beer. "You know, you didn't have to hide that from me." Another sip of beer. "Besides, I thought that might be the case when I realized you were checking out the women at the Merch. It's cool, Maura…" Her scowl lessened a little. "But, yeah, I'd like to know a little more if you're willing to talk about it. If not, it's cool. We'll go watch that movie we've been talking about. Just know, I now reserve the right to pester you about men _and_ women I catch you checking out when we're out." She allowed a smile to play at the corners of her lips.

Maura smiled then, embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she looked down. "I wasn't sure. But actually, at Merch I was playing a role. Very few of the people I checked out actually appealed to me. For what it's worth, Shelly didn't appeal to me in that way, either. I called her back to catch up, not to go out on a date. It was just good to see that she'd come to terms with herself and didn't need to lie anymore."

Standing from the table at last, she followed Jane's footsteps to the refrigerator to pour herself a little more chilled white wine, then led the way over to the couch in case the movie started looking like a better option to Jane, or to herself, than all the truthsomeness she'd begun to feel. "So, bisexuality is supposed to mean the ability to look beyond gender and focus on personality. In a way, I can do that, but…" She sighed. "This is where I'm complicated. You've seen me date men. Sometimes I take them home. They can be enjoyable for a casual encounter, even several. Sexually, I suppose you could say I fire on all pistons. In fact, it's much easier to do that with men, because they're fairly easy to read, and they interpret just about anything as flirtation, so it's easier to get a point across to them. They take even the subtlest of hints. And they're always happy to start in right away, so it doesn't take all night, and I can still sleep enough to be fresh for work the next day. If I need physical contact, if I need just _someone,_ I typically seek out a male. Not just any male, of course. I'm selective, and there are a few that I'll ask back now and again, rather than seek out someone new." Pause. "Is this too much information? I know I don't really filter all that well…"

"It's okay, I've gotten used to filtering my head as you go." Jane sat her beer down on the coffee table making certain it was resting on a coaster. With a wink, she leaned back into her corner of the couch and stretched her left arm across the back. "Not sure I agree men are easy, but, whatever," She gave a shrug. "What about women?"

Maura padded over in her bare feet, shoes forgotten under the table, and sat with her back against the arm of the couch so she could face Jane directly, one foot on the floor, the other knee bent, foot tucked under the opposite knee. "Women are more complicated. If all I want is sexual contact, I never look at a woman, because women can't be that for me. I can't look at a woman as just a warm body. I'm not proud of the fact that I'm able to reduce a man to purely physical terms. I'm only telling you that to explain the contrast. I can only be sexual with a woman if there's a strong emotional component in the relationship first. It's not even a conscious choice that I make, separating the genders in my mind in terms of function that way. It's just that when I choose a woman, she tends to be exceptional in some way. I find myself slowing down, taking my time, not being so forward. The more I care, the longer it takes me to work up the nerve to even let her know it's within the realm of possibility."

"Sounds complicated." Jane ran her tongue across the back of her teeth as she thought about what her friend was saying. "Have you ever managed to actually date a women?"

Maura considered her answer carefully, but as always, it was abundantly clear that she wasn't about to try to lie. She could leave out some details, but whatever she did say would be completely truthful. The only real question was how to phrase the truth, and whether to leave anything out. At last she decided to be as forthright with this information as she'd been with all that came before. "A very few. Depending on what's meant by 'dating', that is. I've been on dates. I've entertained prospects, but nothing's become very… Um. You don't really want details, do you?"

Jane gave a light chuckle. "I think you just answered my question." The detective's voice continued to hold a light, amused quality to it as she continued her line of questioning. "So, got any 'prospects' right now?"

Maura ducked her head, smiling shyly. It was always strange to her when she felt that way, since she understood the biochemical process behind the sensation. She even enjoyed it, other than the feeling that she probably looked stupid and awkward. "I don't think so," she replied as her smile took on a tinge of regret. Just a slight nuance, nothing overt; easy to overlook. "Actually, for a little while I've been in something of a dry spell with both genders. No men to hook into, no women to have any realistic hopes about." She seemed about to go on, but then her eyes happened to flick up towards Jane's face and something occurred to her. "Why are you asking?"

"The term is 'hook up', Maura, not 'hook into', and," Jane gave a shrug, "I'm just curious. You know Ma's been asking if you've found a nice man yet. I guess I could tell her you aren't looking for a nice man. I'm sure she's got some nice girl she's been trying to set Frankie up with that she'd love to introduce you to." The brunette snorted. "Oh man, that'd made Frankie _flip_." Her eyes glazed over for a moment as she appeared to be thinking of such a scenario. Almost to herself, so mused, "It would only be better if it was you and me getting together. He'd shit a brick."


	9. Chapter 9

Maura knew quite well that her heart could not actually leap at all, let alone leap into her throat, but suddenly she understood the idiom. Her eyes widened before she could stop them, and she was struck dumb, lips parted as if they could come up with something to say without her permission. Which, indeed, they did. "That sounds uncomfortable," she said with almost her normal speaking voice and cadence. Almost immediately, the idiocy of the statement brought back her power of more rational speech, and as her heart rate slowed again she said, "Better in what sense?"

"Really, Maura? That's just a figure of speech." Jane rolled her eyes. "Better… you know," the brunette made a vague hand gesture with her right hand, keeping her left arm across the back of the couch. "Like, it'd make him more uncomfortable. He totally has the hots for you, you know." She shrugged. "But, I mean, who wouldn't? At least my baby brother's got good taste. But, if I'm not your type then he is _definitely_ not your type." Jane gave an almost humorous laugh.

Maura's head tilted again, and suddenly she was back on firm footing. Not that she noticed. One didn't notice security, only the lack thereof. Instead, what she noticed was the undercurrent of not-quite-humor beneath her best friend's laugh. "Hm. Well, actually," she said carefully, almost as if poking an anthill with studious seriousness to see if anything happened at all, "I do appreciate things like integrity, bravery, competence, protectiveness. Those traits are often found in law enforcement officers. Not to mention the physical characteristics I find appealing, such as fitness, piercing eyes, a strong chin… It's actually quite possible for one's type to change over time. Or for someone to be so extraordinary in a multitude of ways that one's normal type becomes less and less relevant over time."

"Uh… okay, so…" Her face contorted in confusion as the brunette tried to follow what her friend was saying. "You're telling me Frankie _is_ your type, or are you saying," she grunted in frustration, "You know, I'm not really sure what you're saying. What are you telling me, Maura? You're doing that thing you do that I hate that you do."

Maura enunciated with perhaps excessively precise diction, choosing her words to give as much information as possible, so that Jane wouldn't become more irritated – and so that she couldn't possibly be accused – not even by herself – of being less than fully honest, "Frankie might be my type if I were looking for a man. And if I didn't already think of him as a friend, and as your brother. But I do think of him that way, and… Well, to be honest, he's a man. And as much as I do view it as a character flaw on my part, I have to acknowledge that men are chiefly a physical pleasure for me, not necessarily an emotional one. Do you understand what I mean?"

She fidgeted with the ring on her middle finger, turning it around and around as if grinding out devotions on a prayer wheel. "I've gone long enough without sex that it's starting to feel more and more significant. As if… as if I'd been on a kind of ascetic discipline for a long time, eating nothing but bread and water. It was cleansing, and then it was difficult, and then it was downright painful, and suddenly I've reached the point at which it's become almost a kind of meditative practice."

Maura's explanation came at first in a rush, then more slowly, each word invested with both all the intellect at her disposal and also a depth of feeling she seldom, if ever, showed to anyone about any topic. "The more I've waited, the more I've _wanted_, the longer I go without… the more important it seems to break my fast with something truly worth the wait. As much as I like and respect Frankie, I know that my heart wouldn't be fully engaged if I took him to my bed. He deserves better than what I would give him." She paused, glancing away as she realized she'd never broken eye contact. People got uncomfortable when she did that, maintained such intensity for so long. But she still had to finish. "Frankie is close to what I'd look for, but no. He isn't my type. And he isn't someone that could make me forget my type."

"Okay," Jane raised an eyebrow, her facing falling into detective mode despite the still relaxed position of her body. "So, your type is close to my brother, but not close, and you do really prefer women when comes to relationships, right?" She didn't bother to let Maura respond. "And, Frankie's not someone who would be awesome enough to make you forget your type. So," Jane's eyes narrowed. "what woman is your type or good enough to make you forget your type?"

Maura quickly ran down her mental list of choices. She couldn't lie; Jane knew it. She could remain silent. She could prevaricate. She could say something that sound relevant but wasn't, such as _Well, Marie Curie was a fascinating woman,_ and let Jane assume whatever made her happy.

No.

She'd already said she would do none of those things. Besides, Jane had just been reminded of the rules; would she ask if she didn't want the answer?

No.

And as many a perp had discovered, constantly maintaining a deception was mentally tiring, emotionally draining. The majority of confessions happened, Maura had been told, because the person being questioned simply got tired of resisting. Now she understood why. She was so tired. So very tired of resisting, of being questioned and not having anything truly satisfactory to herself, let alone to her interrogator. Besides, this was Jane. _Jane._ Had she ever really wanted to keep hiding from her best friend, the only person on whom she had ever bestowed that designation?

No.

Maura inhaled, and her eyes closed as she held it a second, then released both the breath and the last of her struggle. "It's you," she whispered, and only then opened her eyes to see the effect of her confession.


	10. Chapter 10

"Bout time." Jane set the beer bottle back on the coffee table where it had been. The smirk on her face seemed to be a permanent fixture, the gleam in her mischievous. She still had her left arm draped across the back of the couch, and, in her signature slouch, she looked like they could have been discussing a baseball game as opposed to the fact her best friend had just admitted being romantically attracted to her.

Hazel eyes focused, widened, then closed again, squeezing moisture out beneath the curtain of her perfectly curled lashes. "Why did you do that to me?" she asked, voice higher with the constriction in her throat.

"One of us had to say it, and you know I'm bad at talking about stuff." Jane's expression changed from a smirk to a warm smile to seriousness. "I mean, I'm I wasn't even sure you were interested… you said I wasn't your type, and you can't lie, so I just kind of," she flinched. "I'm a jerk. I'm sorry."

Maura pulled her knees up closer to her chest and huddled against the couch arm, head turning to the side, away from Jane. For the first time in their entire friendship, her posture said, _don't touch me,_ a preemptive defense against contact that hadn't even been offered. "It's always me," she sniffled. "I'm always the one who talks first, who's naked first, who's raw first. It isn't… Why did you need so much to know? Why put me through that? Was that _fun_ for you?"

Jane sat up, putting her hands in her lap. "No." The reply had a sense of finality to it, as if Jane was putting something to rest in mind. "I'm just not as brave as you are. If I was, I would have said something a long time ago. But," she paused, looking around the room as if it could give her the words she was trying to piece together. "But, I'm just not that brave. I'm so different already. Most of the time, I just want to be normal, you know? And, I _was_ normal for a little while. I mean, sometimes I thought about it… about dating women, but I could always push it to the back and find some cute guy to distract me. But, then you came along with your quirky remarks and beautiful intelligence, and I… I just… What you do to me scares me, Maura. You know how I get when I'm scared."

It was as if she didn't even hear Jane say that she'd considered dating women, in light of what she interpreted as an accusation. The smaller woman's face twisted into confusion, then a blend of fear and offense. "What I do to you? I never did anything to you! I may enjoy dissecting human beings, Jane, but I would _never_ take advantage of one, especially not a friend, my best friend. I've never, ever touched you in a way that you didn't touch me first. I've been very careful. _Very_ careful!"

Jane closed her eyes, trying to keep her own temper in check. "What you do to me, Maura. You make me feel things that I don't … that I can't… God, this is hard. I'm so bad at this. Look, I like you, okay? I mean, I care about you a lot _in that way_, and the fact that I do scares me."

Caught up short, Maura's lips parted as confusion gave way to incredulity with a whispered, "_Oh._"

The taller brunette's voice became more frantic as she spoke. "The fact that I acknowledge that I'm attracted to you scares me. The fact that you can get me to do more with a smile or sniffle than anyone could _ever_ get me to do with threats and speeches scares me. The fact that I want to spend all my free time with you, that I do things for you just because I know it will make you happy, that I think about whether or not you'll like something I'm going to wear, that I've started learning basic table etiquette so I won't embarrass you, that I hate leaving your house to go to my apartment at night because it means leaving your side…"

Slowly, hesitantly, Maura's body began to unclench and to lose the prickly aura. She was listening, listening with every ounce of being.

"…that I get so freaking jealous whenever you tell me you have a date, that _I_ want to date you and _don't_ have an issue with that fact… it all scares the hell out of me, Maura. Okay? What you do to me _scares me_ because no one has ever made me feel like this. No one." With a sigh, she dropped her head into her hands.

The couch cushion's thickness absorbed quite a lot of movement, but a little remained to telegraph Maura's intention before it could be startling. She leaned forward and reached a hand out to cover Jane's at the side of her chiseled, angular face. For an elongated instant, she could not move any further, transfixed at the sight and feel of her soft, privileged hand atop Jane's sinewy, strong, labor-toughened fingers. Then she slid forward, hand dropping down beneath her best friend's chin, not to pull, but to nudge, to ask permission. "Jane?" It was a plea, a prayer, a reassurance. "Jane."

The brunette didn't move. Instead, she spoke into her hands, her body rigid with frustration and fear. "Maura, I swear to God, I just don't know what to do with it."

"Look at me, Jane," Maura murmured softly. "You'll know, and then maybe I'll know, too."

Slowly, hesitantly, Jane pulled her hands away from her face. She kept her eyes on them as they settled in her lap. Face hardened from years of practice hiding what she actually felt and lips taut, she gradually made eye contact. "Maura?" A question. Such uncertainty in her voice did not match her face. It did match her eyes as they pooled with unshed tears.

Maura didn't understand the question. She was so accustomed to reading expressions, yet this one she hadn't seen in any of her studies, and she was not prepared to hazard a guess as to what the unasked question might be. She did know her answer, however. No matter what the question was. _"Yes,"_ she tried to say aloud, but her voice proved unable to work past the nervousness in her throat, and she nodded to emphasize it.

"Maura," Jane blinked a few times. Closing her eyes, she concentrated for a brief moment. "I don't want to block you out. I'm sorry. I know you need me to not be a cop right now." For a few very long seconds, the detective sat still. Then, her face relaxed and all the turmoil of emotions she felt were there on her face for the doctor to read.

Suddenly Jane's face was a revelation, and Maura strove to comprehend all that she saw therein. As she took Jane's hand in both of hers, tenderly as one might handle a baby bird, her own face mirrored the same expression back. Not because every emotion was one she felt, but because by shaping her facial muscles to match, Maura could more readily identify the emotions that caused each muscle and tendon to move in that way. Once she felt that she matched, Maura turned her mind inward, and her breath caught. In an instant, she was no longer analyzing. Now, when she mirrored Jane's visage, it wasn't out of mimicry but out of shared feeling. "I need…" she started, then shook her head. "I don't know what I need, but I _need_ it."

"Well, that makes two of us." Jane threaded her fingers with Maura's. She gave a gentle smile before moving forward and placing a tentative, trembling kiss on the lips of the woman before her.

Maura leaned into the kiss, stood up on her knees on the couch, and drew Jane up with her to press their torsos together. It was tentative, it was hesitant, it was genuine, and it was soft, but most of all it was over just a shade too quickly. Maura bent until her cheek rested on Jane's shoulder and sighed in deep satisfaction. "That's it," she said with a small, warm smile. "That's what I needed."

With a chuckle, Jane pulled them back down to the couch. After taking a few seconds to settled with her back against the arm rest and Maura lying on top of her, she smiled brightly. "Good." But, her smile quickly faded back to the serious face of a few moments before. "I'm still scared, Maura. These feelings still frighten me. I mean, I don't really know where we go from here. I want to do _something_, though. I mean, I can't go back. I just... can't. So, if you don't want to... you know ...if you're not interested in being my... well, what I'm trying to say is that," Jane gave a frustrated sigh as she stammered through her thoughts trying to figure out a way to say what she was thinking. "Do you think we'll move toward eventually being," another sigh, "God, why is this so hard for me? All I want to do is hold you and kiss you, but I _know_ that what I'm trying to say is important. I just don't understand why I can't spit it out. I mean, I just don't know what's going on in my head right now. I really don't."

Maura nodded the whole time Jane was speaking, though she also adjusted to be lying mostly beside Jane and only a little atop her, just one leg thrown over. She agreed, supported, tried to capture those hardened, capable hands in hers to sooth the beautiful, enthusiastic, Italian expressiveness, take away from the physical energy and help Jane focus on the verbal. It didn't work all that well, but the effort was surprisingly gratifying. When finally she got a word in edgewise, the curvier woman tried to keep her voice from going higher; she hated to be perceived as whining. "I don't either, Jane, and there's just so much to work through. So much to talk about, so much to build. We have to learn and grow, to figure out where we stand in each other's lives. It's a long, important process, and can we just put it on hold for tonight? Can you just be kissing me now?"

* * *

**From Googlemouth: **

**Thanks to Joss Whedon for the following, from which I stole liberally and shamelessly: "There's just so much to work through. Trust has to be built again, on both sides, You have to learn if we're even the same people we were, if you can fit in each other's lives. It's a long important process, and, can we just skip it? Can you just be kissing me now?"**


	11. Chapter 11

Jane's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You… wow, I would not have expected that from you, Maur." She smiled. "That sounds like something I'd normally say, but," she leaned forward, kissing the honey-blonde, "yeah, I think we can do that." The relief in the detective's dark eyes was evident as she gazed down at Maura's upturned face. "In fact, that sounds like a great plan."

"No plan," Maura murmured as she closed the small distance between them again, pressing herself into Jane's long, lean body all the way down to her toes. It seemed that the skin of her hands was starved for Jane. She wasn't the sort to wolf down a meal without tasting it, though, so the smaller woman went slowly, decreasing speed over what proved to be the important parts – the inward curve of the waist, the undersmile of the breast, the slope of the long neck where heat and pulse throbbed. Her mouth, though, wasn't so patient, all lips and tongue and teeth and hunger. It was the one part of her that expressed what the rest was keeping in tightly-lashed restraint.

"Could have fooled me," the brunette gasped between kisses. Her hands clung to Maura's hips as if to keep herself grounded as her body was assaulted by the various pleasurable sensations caused by the gentle touches and eager mouth of the woman above her.

Hips pushed forward at the slightest touch from Jane, but as a moment of particular intensity passed, Maura raised her head just enough to say, not without substantial regret, "Wait. Just a minute, I need to breathe and, and, and think, and that's really difficult right now. I'm receiving too much sensory data, and my over-stimulated senses are being, um, overwhelmed, and additionally I think that my brain is beginning to release oxytocin, and it's a little early for that. Pleasurable. Very. I just…"

"Need to take a breather?" With a squeeze to Maura's hips, she helped move them to a sitting position so they were no longer touching. "Better?"

Maura nodded quickly as she licked her dry lips and steadied her respiratory rate. Still, not touching Jane at all was not a desirable state of affairs, so she slid a hand back around Jane's waist, using the other to prop up her head. "I think I got a little ahead of myself," she apologized. "I've wanted you so much for so long, and it's not easy to… You're very hard to resist. Especially when I really don't want to resist."

"If you're trying to protect my virtue, Dr. Isles, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but Johnny Corvallis got to it already, so you're safe." Jane smirked at her own joke.

Maura allowed herself the luxury of looking at Jane's face, smiling at what she saw there, seeming unaffected by the knowledge that Jane must be perfectly aware of how thoroughly and quickly she'd become stimulated to excitement. Then again, she didn't have to look that way all alone. Evidence adorned Jane as well, visual evidence as well as pheromonal hints. "Mm," she mused, trailing a finger around the curve of Jane's ear, down her strongly defined chin, along the thick vein at her neck, and across her collarbone. "Am I really safe, Jane? I don't know about that. You seem kind of dangerous, to me."

Jane growled. "If you keep that up, I make no promises." Though she remained still, her muscles flexed and twitched with the tension of her restraint.

"I don't want promises," Maura realized aloud as she lay back down, this time leaving no room for Jane beside her, slipping one foot behind Jane's hips on the couch, the other calf over her seated thighs. The darker woman would have to either lay atop her, or leave. She refused to make leaving the easy choice, as well, by leaving her hands on that rich olive skin as long as possible, trailing along Jane's shoulders and bare arms as she reclined. "Not tonight. Tomorrow we can have that important conversation. Tonight… tonight, if you'll let me, I just want to touch you."

With a sigh, Jane took the invitation and lay down allowing Maura to wrap her arms around the detective's lanky frame. "Figure of speech, 'make no promises', but I'm still okay with it." She snuggled against the curve of Maura's neck. "More than okay. Can we just sleep like this? Between tonight and the week we've had, I'm tired, and this is nice."

Maura curled one leg around Jane, not in the attitude of seeking sexual enjoyment, but rather in response to emotional pleasure. Idly she allowed her hands to roam up and down Jane's back and sides, occasionally brushing the base of her neck or the proportionately broad shoulders. "Mm. Yes, it is. I've always wanted to sleep like this with you." Now that a direction had been chosen, she seemed entirely contented with it. "Here, or should we be getting up and going to bed?"

"Mmmm… if we move to the bed, I'll have to get up, which doesn't sound like something I really want to do. If we sleep here, I'm pretty sure my bad back, hands, shoulder, and whatever else I'm managed to hurt in my lifetime will be hurting me tomorrow. Better go with the bed." Reluctantly, Jane moved to stand.

Maura followed along, fingers interlaced with Jane's, as she smiled. At her house, there might have been questions concerning where either or both of them would sleep. At Jane's house, there was no need to wonder, second-guess, or negotiate. "Therapeutic touch can alleviate a lot of pain, not to mention contributing to the release of pair-bonding hormones." She paused, then explained more explicitly, "If you hurt in the morning, I'll massage you. That's one promise I don't mind making."


	12. Chapter 12

**Googlemouth's Author's Notes**

**Some events in this story are taken from my (Googlemouth's) real life.** That's why I couldn't make up a fictitious version of the Girl Scouts of America. Also, because I still object to some of the practices that the GSA formally disavows, but which individual chapters are allowed to continue with impunity. The GSA has a stated policy not to discriminate against members based on their race, creed, or sexuality. However, they permit individual chapters to discriminate, and the last information I have is that gay men and women cannot lead troops. I do have a friend who wasn't permitted to join because her fathers were gay, though to be fair, that was in the 80s. I've no idea if those policies are different now, because I don't actually care enough to look them up. But I'm using the GSA by name because if there are scouts, former scouts, den mothers, or corporate employees who are reading this, you need to take a look at your organization and make a more informed decision about whether you really want to keep supporting it. I hope it's changed since I last knew of anything directly relating to scouting.

**Where events differ from real life:** I'm not wealthy, and was in fact below average in socioeconomic status in a school that was filled with others who weren't really well-advantaged either; "Shelly" and "Gwen" aren't the daughters of rich politicians; I was "lucky" in that our Brownie den mother didn't actually inform my parents of the reasons I was kicked out, they just said I'd been caught lying one too many times and therefore the lessons of the Brownies were obviously not sinking in; and finally, I have no idea how the real-life "Shelly" and "Gwen" actually turned out, because I moved across the country from them and have never even heard word of them again, which is just the way I like it, and they're probably happier that way, too.


End file.
